


Worlds Apart, Our Hearts Beat As One

by Iaveina



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: F/M, Gen, KH!AU, Kingdom Hearts AU, Multi, Ragehappy Big Bang 2014, kingdom hearts!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iaveina/pseuds/Iaveina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones knew that there must be more to the universe than his little island home. However, he never expected his sanctuary to be torn apart by a terrifying beast shrouded in shadow and suddenly being flung into the unknown with nothing but a giant key to protect him.</p>
<p>People call him ‘The Keybearer’, tasked with keeping his light strong in the never-ending battle between Darkness and Light; all eyes looking to him in hope as he is tasked with travelling the worlds with new allies, sealing Keyholes and trying with all his might to find his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quae Obscurum

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here is my [Ragehappy Big Bang](http://ragehappybigbang.tumblr.com/masterlist) fic. Also my brainchild in a way and the reason why I still have about 6 unfinished prompts sat in my inbox. Ah ha!
> 
> It's going to be future!Juggey (which is why I've tagged it like that) along with a few other pairings, but they will appear as they appear~
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!
> 
> The wonderful art was done by [imtakingkitty](http://imtakingkitty.tumblr.com), go and show her your love and appreciation!
> 
> Can be found on tumblr [here](http://iaveinabox.tumblr.com/post/96173977828/worlds-apart-our-hearts-beat-as-one-chapter-1).

 

All around him was Darkness.

It was the sort of Darkness that seeped deep into his soul, hazing over his thoughts with a thick mist and weighing him down to his very core. It sickened him, dragging him further into the abyss where tendrils eagerly rose to greet him, coiling up tightly around his heavy limbs as they prepared to drag him further into the inescapable void.

He struggled to think. He struggled to pull his thoughts together enough to understand why he should not welcome this, why he should not surrender himself to the enticing calm that hummed in his ears and sung into his soul, spreading throughout his body and leaving an uncomfortable tingling in his fingertips.

It was an odd feeling he supposed, turning his head slowly as he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye, to be unable to summon the will to think. Or to be unable to summon the will to care as his reflection stood, decorated arms lightly folded, with a broad smirk on his lips as his dark eyes watched impassively as he sunk into the black.

He breathed in deeply, knowing that he should feel uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny of his reflection, but forced himself to try and align his thoughts enough to determine a way to escape as the dark strands strengthened their hold.

But it was so difficult, and every thought seemed to slip away like water in his hands.

He was not certain how much time had passed but after what seemed like an age a pinprick of Light appeared above him. It started small at first, almost unnoticeable as it slowly rippled through the never-ending Darkness, before it abruptly exploded into an illuminating beam that seared the tendrils around him. They recoiled, their unnatural shrieks filling his ears, and as he watched them retreat back into the depths from whence they came the cold that had started to seep into his bones was replaced with an inexplicable warmth that filled his soul.

In amongst the screaming a voice pierced the veil. He looked towards it and the source of the spreading Light, gaining enough control of his body to raise an arm to shield his eyes from the brightness, and he flinched as something gently took his hand. The something was tender and reassuring, and despite being unable to see the source he couldn’t help but relax.

          ‘ _Keep your Light burning strong, Michael_.’

He closed his eyes, focusing on the warm feeling within him, and as suddenly as it had all started it stopped.

The Darkness vanished, overcome by the Light that spread to encase his entire vision and, despite the disorientation it caused, he found that it all quickly faded away; allowing his thoughts to sluggishly piece themselves together as ripples of colour danced before his eyes, finally solidifying into something unfamiliar. Something unknown.

Beneath him the surface was cold, the chill seeping into his aching limbs, and for a moment he struggled to open his eyes. His fingers splayed flat against the floor, expecting to meet the tiny granules of golden sand that formed a soft, almost ever-present canvas beneath his feet, but touched upon something solid and foreign instead. The scents that hung in the air were not like the salty smell of the ocean that he was used to, beckoned forth on a gentle breeze that settled lightly upon his skin and tousled his hair, but was frigid and stale and wholly unfamiliar to him and, with great effort, he forced his chestnut eyes open; blearily noticing the dim lights that twinkled around him, his gaze momentarily transfixed on the soft halos that the flickering lantern flames cast across the walls as they softly illuminated the area.

Wherever he was it was inside, he thought. However, the chill of the night air that easily permeated through his clothes - clinging to his skin - contested that, the glass roof above him acting as more of a shelter against the elements than a true roof. The design itself was like nothing he had ever seen before with supporting arches suspended above him, all decorated with intricate leaf designs; bronze in colour but delicately inlaid with filigree, almost glowing as they reflected the lantern flames. Below, he could just about see marbled walls (made up of a strange mixture of pinks, whites and oranges all polished until they gleamed) leading to a floor of a similar material.

Using the wall as leverage he stood on shaking legs, momentarily confused over the lack of something solid in his right hand. His fist clenched around nothing, a flash of something metallic raced through his mind for a moment before it was gone, leaving behind a strange feeling that settled uncomfortably in his stomach; something odd in amongst the surreal that was slowly fading away to confusion and anger. But he knew he could not dwell on it, and instead took a hesitant step out of the alcove he found himself in and towards where he could hear signs of life.

 He stepped out into a large hall, completely sheltered by the glass roof above, that was entirely empty. The benches that lined the central walkway, painted a cheery green in colour, were devoid of occupants and the bright glow of numerous vending machines did nothing to fill the grand open space, their low hums and the sound of his footsteps on the ground joining together to resonate loudly in his ears.

Michael continued to walk, trying to ignore the echoes of his soles against the ground, to the end of the hall where, suspended from the ground and easily visible to anybody who chose to read it from below, an electronic board hung displaying lines of words - names? - and numbers that he didn’t understand. He noticed, as he slowly turned to survey the main concourse, that some of the numbers matched signs that hung above doors around the sides of the hall, but he couldn’t grasp their significance.

“Kid.”

Michael had a split second of warning, the creak of a door on its hinges and the airy ‘ping’ of a bell, before a deep voice spoke and he spun sharply on his heels, his hand twitching and clenching around thin air, to face its owner.

The man, despite being larger in build than him, didn’t look threatening at all; with a kindly face partially hidden beneath a thick, ginger beard and with a green apron wrapped around his middle and a broom held tightly in gloved hands he looked almost friendly, but Michael couldn’t help but warily scan his surroundings.

The sounds of life he could hear seemed to be coming from the building the man had exited; light spilling from the ajar door and a cheerful ‘OPEN’ sign declaring to anyone who wanted to know that they could come inside. Stacked by the door were a number of chairs, rising high enough to touch the bottom of a board with the words ‘Achievement Café’ proudly emblazoned on it in thick white letters, alongside a number of stacked tables. Behind them, the shutters had been pulled down over the windows that Michael was sure were there during the day.

“Where am I?” He barked, shifting his attention back to the man, a look torn between confusion and concern on the stranger’s face. Michael didn’t care how rude he sounded, and he watched as the man raised a bushy eyebrow in response; his brown eyes warm beneath a pair of glasses. An odd look appeared on his face, and Michael narrowed his eyes in suspicion as the man exhaled slowly in realisation.

“This is Achievement Central Station,” the man explained, propping the broom against the wall and holding his hands out in a placating gesture. He took a step forward, stopping immediately as Michael took a step back with folded arms.

“That doesn’t fucking help me if I don’t know where the fuck that is!” He yelled, teeth bared. His anger grew, bubbling fiercely within him, as he saw a pitying look flash across the other man’s face. “Don’t you  _dare_  look at me like that.”

Instantly the pitying look was gone, replaced by a pleasant and apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” the man replied, holding out a hand. “I’m Jack, the Station Master here.”

Michael stared at the offered hand like it could burn him but made no move to shake it, and Jack held it out for a moment before he stopped trying, the pleasant smile still on his lips. Michael huffed, folding his arms tighter around himself.

“ _Where_  exactly is here?” He demanded, less venom in his tone. Jack opened his mouth to respond but Michael was quick to interrupt him. “And don’t give me any of that Central Achievement Station or whatever it’s called bullshit.”

Jack sighed, reaching to the side to reclaim him broom, before he nodded his head to the half-closed café behind him.

“It’s nearly time to close, but you look like you need something warm to drink. The Displaced usually do.”

“Cut the crap,  _Jack_.” Michael hissed, unfolding his arms and clenching his fists as he glared at Jack. Jack looked unphased. “You don’t need to fucking treat me like a little kid.”

Jack’s pleasant smile faded and he sighed deeply, turning his head to stare out into the empty hall. Michael narrowed his eyes, his nose scrunching in displeasure as he watched Jack struggle to find the right words, a pang of  _something_  - regret? - stirring within him at the thought of being the person to make someone who clearly didn’t like to be the bearer of bad news be the one to deliver it. He could plainly see it in the other man’s eyes, the want to be as far away from this conversation as possible but accepting it as impossible.

“This is Achievement Central Station,” Jack repeated, striding forward. He motioned for Michael to follow him. “This place...it’s a hub world. It’s where people go when they’ve got nowhere to go back to.”

Michael fell into step beside him as they walked down the central walkway, the sounds of conversation from the café behind them gradually fading into dull mutterings. The hall was longer than any building he had ever been in before, and for a moment he thought Jack intended to walk its entire length. But he stopped, bathed under the light of a dimly flickering lamp, and slipped his hands into his pockets.

Michael frowned. “The...Displaced?” He asked, repeating the word Jack had mentioned before. Jack nodded with a sad smile and Michael continued. “They come  _here_ , to this…world?” He felt his heart skip a beat as a cold wave of realisation enveloped him. “This is another world.”

Jack chuckled slightly and Michael was struck by how uncondescending it was; the man’s persona being far too open for it to be misinterpreted as anything but comforting.  

“Don’t tell me, you thought that your little corner of the universe was all there was?”

Michael’s brow creased in thought, his mind going back to the nights spent lying on the beach with his best friends beside him, staring up at the cloudless sky and the twinkling mass of lights and constellations above them.

He had often wondered what was out there. Because there  _had_  to be something more than their boring island lives, right?

It was something they had discussed too, many times. Lindsay’s eyes sparkling in the starlight as she spun intricate tales of worlds full of magic, Princes, Princesses and - of course - cats, her cheeks flushed in excitement and her smile bright enough to rival the moon.

Caleb would always listen to every word intently, laughing at the plans they would come up with for a way to see everything beyond their sky; jokingly musing that there must be a world out there where people were able to play with frisbees without falling flat on their face. Michael had promptly smacked him on the arm for that as Lindsay giggled away madly, his longing for the unknown stirring deep within him.

But it was never supposed to be  _real_. Tangible and right before his eyes the proof was there, but it  _couldn’t_  be real, could it? He had just hit his head hard enough to knock himself out and his elaborate dreams were creating an adventure of their own.

His hand twitched, his fist clenching around air as a spark of energy jumped through his body.

“This is real,” he breathed, flinching slightly as a warm hand, larger than his own, came to rest on his shoulder. He snapped out of his daze to look at Jack, his hand twitching.

Jack squeezed his shoulder, a comforting gesture that - despite its intentions - felt a little odd to him, and asked: “Do you remember what happened to you?”

Darkness flashed before his eyes. Gigantic and terrifying. Unknown and unwanted. The sound of destruction rang in his ears; the earth tearing away and the wind assaulting his body. He shivered against it, not willing to admit to himself that he - Michael Vincent Jones - had been truly afraid.

Then a light flashed and a heavy, welcoming weight appeared in his hand.

He swallowed heavily as he tried to shake the icy chill that lurked in the shadows around him, aware of Jack’s eyes on him, and nodded.

“I don’t understand what happened, but I remember it.” Jack’s smile was reassuring against the rush of memories and the weight of the hand on his shoulder succeeded in anchoring him to reality. “There was Darkness. Everywhere. And no matter what I did…” Michael swallowed hard, keeping his gaze on Jack steady. “It’s gone, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, kid-”

“Michael.”

“Michael,” Jack nodded as he squeezed his shoulder once more before moving his hand away. “I’m sorry, but yes.”

There was silence between them for a moment as Michael collected his thoughts, the hum of the vending machines combining with the distant conversations from the café filling the air. He thrust his hands into his pockets, clenching his jaw in anger as the full gravity of what had happened settled upon him; the weight of it twisting in his stomach and burning in his chest.

“How can we stop it?” He asked. Jack smiled softly and took a step back towards the café, readjusting his hold on the broom, Michael dimly wondered if all of the Displaced had been as lucky as him to have met Jack first; the older man’s kind and reassuring nature doing wonders to restore some form of calm within him.

Jack paused, his eyes downcast in thought, before he replied. “The Darkness doesn’t care about where it goes, and who it hurts,” he muttered seriously, and Michael caught a flash of  _something_  across his features before it was gone. “It will get what it wants, even if it has to destroy everything in its path.” He looked up at Michael and shrugged. “But, there’s a Light inside of everyone, and as long as that Light exists to oppose it, it can’t win. Together our Light shines brighter than anything the Darkness tries to hide.”

“Who did you steal that from?” Michael teased with a smirk. Jack chuckled, a grin tugging at his lips as he opened his mouth to retort, before his brow creased in confusion. He looked sharply towards the café.

Michael had no idea what had captured the other man’s attention, and for a moment he found himself staring blankly at the building in silence, waiting for a clue. Something flickered out of the corner of his eye and he instinctively turned to face it, watching in mounting dread as shadows moved across the floor.

“Jack…?”

Jack ignored him and darted towards the café, racing faster than Michael thought him capable of, as the shadows pulsed and swirled beneath his feet. Eventually they rose up, mutating into outlandish figures that skittered across the floor, with their gangly limbs bent at unnatural angles and yellow eyes glaring ruthlessly at their prey. As he took in the sight, a tightness formed in his chest; the familiarity of the creatures chilling his blood, and memories of broken palm trees and dark sand flashing before his eyes.

The hairs on his arms prickled, his senses screaming in warning, and he leapt forward to avoid a creature that had lunged for his exposed back; its sharp claws outstretched, ready to pierce through his flesh. He spun, kicking out harshly with his foot as he was surrounded, and looked around wildly for Jack.

“Jack!” He yelled, leaping over the mass of creatures and jumping onto a nearby bench. The Station Master was nowhere to be seen, his broom abandoned on the ground, but the café door was wide open and Michael could clearly hear the sounds of raised voices from within.

He vaulted over the bench and dived for the broom, taking advantage of the momentum to swing his makeshift weapon at the creatures around him. He scrambled to his feet as people spilled from the café and, not bothering to see how successful his strike had been, he sprinted away down the central walkway; trying to quell the rising panic that couldn’t help but notice how the horde split themselves between the café’s customers and their now-moving target.

The creatures were relentless. They followed him with sickening precision as he weaved his way through the obstacles in the hall and Michael knew that the broom wouldn’t protect him for long. It looked old, creaking in protest as he lashed out again to no effect, and as he put all of his power into one final swing the wood of the handle cracked and splintered. The sound was satisfying but did nothing to deter the creatures.

“Are fucking kidding me?” He exclaimed, looking at the ruined broom handle. The large split in the wood rendered it useless and he angrily threw it to the side. The creatures, seemingly spurred on by his lack of weapon, encircled him in a sea of Darkness; watching him with their unnatural eyes, calculating before they pounced.

Without a way to defend himself he struggled as sharp claws ripped into the loose fabric of his shirt, tracing thin red lines across his skin and tearing a cry from his throat. He kicked out furiously with his feet but already he could feel his energy wavering, the adrenaline that coursed through his veins being overcome by the exhaustion in his limbs and, his feet slipping on the smooth floor, he stumbled.

Suddenly, a human hand gripped his arm. The grasp was strong, and Michael felt himself being pulled away from the chaos by an armoured figure who wielded what looked like a gun in his other hand.

“You look like you could do with some help,” his rescuer quipped, his voice cracking, as he set him onto his feet. His hand moved from Michael’s arm to his belt, where he opened a pouch and took out a box which he pushed into his gun. Michael found his gaze torn between the man - the voice beneath the helmet being far too deep to belong to a woman - and the creatures.

“What  _are_  these things?”

The man fired the gun a couple of times with a bang, the bullets embedding themselves into the bodies of the shadow creatures; dissolving them into nothing but wisps. “What,  _these_  assholes?” He asked, firing again at the horde; the creatures increasing their efforts to attack in wake of the new threat. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a Heartless before.”

“I haven’t,” Michael huffed, darting to the side as a creature - a Heartless? - threw itself at him. He landed awkwardly and twisted himself out of the way of another assailant, watching as a bullet removed it from the hall. “Not before tonight.”

“Oh!” Another round of bullets cleared the space around him, and the man reloaded his gun before continuing. “You must-” The man sidestepped, an easy movement that didn’t interrupt the flow of his shooting. “- be new-” More Heartless vanished into wisps. “-here!”

Michael grunted in response, simultaneously dodging a Heartless that tried to dig its claws into his leg and jumping to his feet. He staggered to the side, attempting to lash out with his arm, and lost his already tenuous footing on the floor. The world tilted before he could stop it.

“Kid! Look out!”

He had a split second to register the warning before he raised his arms in protection. His right hand clenched, his nails digging into the soft skin of his palm, and something exploded within him in a terrifying mixture of emotions and senses, all converging together to tug at his very being.

And then a heavy weight appeared in his hand.

He briefly registered the smooth, metallic surface of the hilt that now lay in his grasp before he lashed out, the Heartless that had nearly ended him disapparating into nothing as a large, crystallised heart rose to the heavens above. Michael’s breathes came in rapid gasps as he watched it disappear, and he looked down at the weapon he now held in awe.

The hilt beneath his fingers was smooth; a dark metallic colour and surrounded by a dark, obsidian-like handle inset with three glowing green discs on each side.  From the end, a silvery star hung from a long keychain and glimmered cheerfully in the light of the lanterns around it.

But it wasn’t the hilt that made Michael’s jaw drop. Instead of supporting a blade that was long, sharp and sleek in nature - all of the characteristics that Michael attributed to a sword - the blade he was presented with was entirely different. Pale steel with an almost-green hue to it, leading to an end with three jagged pieces of metal facing outwards. Almost like a key.

He had seen it before. He had seen it as he stood amongst the roaring winds that battered his home, transfixed in horror as he stared up at the gigantic behemoth that loomed above. A voice, rich and clear and resonating from within, had spoken to him of Light and bravery and the blade had come to him, responding to the resonance and humming in anticipation and acceptance.

“It’s real,” Michael whispered, voice hitching in disbelief. “Holy  _shit_  it’s actually real.”

The Heartless immediately abandoned their prey, sensing him as the greater threat, and turned to face him as one. But, Michael realised with a start, they didn’t scare him anymore.

Slowly, they stalked across the floor like hunters. Eyes fixated on him, watching his every move. But he was ready, and as he readjusted his grip upon the cool metal of his blade he grinned challengingly, teeth bared.

The Heartless struck first, launching at him from all sides, but he was ready for them; raising the blade that weighed next-to-nothing in his grasp and slicing through the barrage of creatures like they were nothing to him. He weaved, ducked and turned through the horde, only faintly registering the light of the rising hearts around him soaring to freedom, and as soon as it had all started it was over.

And the ensuing silence was deafening.

He could feel his heart pounding furiously in his chest, the remaining adrenaline slowly fading and drawing heavy breaths from within him. Dimly, he was aware of multiple eyes watching him and could feel the tension thick in the air.

“Where did you get that?”

His rescuer’s tone was harsh as he removed his helmet, and Michael found it remarkable how different the other man looked from what he thought; his short, shaggy brown hair and ridiculous moustache being worlds away from the fierce, gun-wielding warrior who had aided him and cut down a number of the Heartless without seemingly breaking a sweat. The man took a step towards him, his steel blue eyes scrutinising him in far more detail than anything he had ever experienced before.

“Get what?” He replied slowly, standing up from the crouching position he couldn’t remember dropping into. The man frowned and his eyes darted to where Jack stood nearby with a barely concealed look of shock on his face.

“The Keyblade,” Jack breathed, staring at the blade in awe, and almost instantly his face transformed. No longer did he look tired and drained, a simple man who had seen and lived through horrors some people would never see, but became someone who had seen a glimmer of hope when all seemed lost. Michael thought it made him look younger. “Geoff, he’s-”

“ _No_ ,” Geoff’s expression didn’t change at all but Michael could see the miniscule shift in his stance; like a warrior preparing for battle. “He’s just a  _kid_ , Jack,” he hissed in disbelief, his grip on his gun tightening in indignation.

Michael scowled and Jack, noticing the look, stepped between them as peacekeeper. “Michael, where did you get that?” He asked with a reassuringly calm look, contrasting starkly with the look of confusion and incredulity Geoff wore openly on his face.

“No one gave it to me,” Michael snapped, uncomfortably aware of how sweaty his palm was against the metal of the blade. He readjusted his grip, Geoff’s eyes narrowing at the action. “It just appeared in my fucking hand! I don’t want it, I don’t even know what it is!”

“You must have an exceptionally strong heart.”

There was a beat of silence, in which both Michael and Geoff stared at Jack; the Station Master’s focus purely on Michael, a small smile on his lips.

Geoff shook his head. “Jack, h-”

“Geoff, he’s been chosen.” It was the first time Michael had heard Jack raise his voice, and from the barely-concealed look of shock on Geoff’s face he guessed that the older man thought the same.

“Chosen for  _what_ , exactly?” He asked, biting down an angry retort. “I have  _no_  fucking idea what’s happened. One minute I’m home and everything’s just  _fine_ , and the next I’m on another world. Chosen for some bullshit mission that I didn’t fucking ask for!”

Geoff groaned and ran a hand through his hair, pulling tersely at the strands as he replied. “They say that the Keyblade can bring both peace and chaos,” he explained, waving a hand towards the weapon Michael held. “Only those who are strong of heart are chosen to wield one, and with it they can unlock any door, seal any seal, vanquish the Heartless from our worlds…” his brow creased in annoyance. He then sighed, the anger slowly draining from his posture. “They’re a powerful player in the battle between Light and Darkness. And you’re just a kid.”

“Maybe whoever decided to fucking leave me with this thought a kid could do a better job?”

Geoff huffed. “You have no idea what to do with The Keyblade, do you?”

“I may have a solution to that.”

The voice that spoke was new; deep and rich in a way that Michael couldn’t help but think was similar to Jack’s. Its owner had approached without being detected, and as Geoff and Jack took in the sight of the newcomer they instantly moved; Geoff dropping to his knees a moment behind a head-bowed Jack, his gaze remaining stubbornly open.

At first Michael was confused at the sudden display of submission, not immediately understanding why it had come about. The newcomer remained standing, a small smile on his lips. He was tall, a height that was further enhanced by his stature - straight-backed and head held high (in confidence or arrogance Michael couldn’t tell), with high quality, formal black trousers tucked into perfectly shined, knee-high boots. His cream, button-down shirt was partially obscured by the tartan cloak he wore and a sword hung from a holster at his hips. Atop his head, nestled on bed of neat, sandy brown hair sat a glimmering golden crown.

“Young Keybearer,” the man began, a serious glint in his sapphire eyes. He made a sweeping gesture with his left hand and both Geoff and Jack climbed to their feet. Michael stood straighter, the cool metal of the Keyblade beneath his palm grounding him, and nodded in recognition. The man took a step towards him. “I am King Ryan, King of Achievia and Sovereign of everything within these realms. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He held out his hand and Michael transferred the Keyblade to his left hand so that he could grasp it in return, receiving a firm shake from the King. “I’m Michael,” he dropped his hand to his side, holding up the Keyblade slightly with a shrug. “I’d tell you what I am but it’s apparently so fucking obvious…”

“You had a suggestion, Your Majesty,” Jack supplied, gently joining the conversation. Geoff, having holstered his gun, stood slightly behind him with his arms tightly folded and was looking towards them with an indecipherable look on his face.

Ryan did not turn to look at the other man as he took a step back, his cape swayed at the motion, and examined Michael with a sharp gaze. “A Keybearer must travel the worlds, Michael. It’s an enormous responsibility.”

“I’ll do it,” Michael replied quickly, the blade within his grasp disappearing in a wave of swirls and light. He felt like something was missing without it, and fought back a grimace. “I mean, I  _want_  to do it. I just…”

“Don’t know how?” Jack supplied, his voice soft. Michael shrugged in response, not willing to admit to veritable strangers that he did not know how to do something. Instead of looking patronising, like any adult he had ever met before, the men around him regarded him with expressions ranging from sympathetic to blank.

“I can help you,” Ryan began, his voice smooth. “I can provide you with a means of transportation and send men who have experience in travelling the worlds to accompany you in your task. It’s the very least I can do.”

“You don’t have to,” Michael replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve only just met m-”

“If it helps ensure the safety of our worlds, then it’s something I’m willing to do,” Ryan interrupted, holding a hand up to silence him. “Stay here for the night. Rest, recuperate. I’m sure the fair Station Master and his friend would be willing to accommodate you for the night, and my people will meet you on Platform 3 in the morning.”

He spun on his heel and strode up the walkway without another word, leaving the three men to stand in silence.

A silence that was broken by Geoff’s wholehearted, squeaky laughter, the older man doubling over in mirth.

“The look...” he gasped, clutching his stomach. “...On your  _face_!”

“Geoff!” Jack chided, smacking him lightly on the arm. Michael pouted and watched Geoff wipe away nonexistant tears.  

“I’m sorry,” he did not sound particularly apologetic as he took in a deep breath. “Ryan can be a bit to-the-point sometimes, it’s just funny to see him doing it to other people for once.”

“ _His Majesty_  was willing to help Michael though,” Jack retorted, slowly walking back towards the café. He gestured for Michael to follow him, and the younger man fell into step with Geoff. “I guess you’re staying with us for the night.”

“I don’t have to,” Michael replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can sleep on one of the benches out here, be gone to wherever this mission takes me in the morning.”

“Like hell you will, buddy,” Geoff interjected, shaking his head furiously “We’re not going to let you sleep out here when we have a perfectly good couch you can use.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, looking between the two men curiously. “You guys live together?”

Jack snorted, coming to the door of the café. “ _I_  live somewhere, Geoff moved himself in a couple of months ago and I can’t get rid of him.”

“You’d miss me if I was gone, admit it,” Geoff followed Jack over the threshold, into the dim light of the café’s main room. A couple of the oak wood tables had been overturned in the struggle, the Heartless evidently having made their way into the building as well as outside it, and there was a long rip in the flowery wallpaper by the large window; almost as if a blade had sliced through it.

There was a small group of people inside, all of whom looked up as they entered, and who all greeted Jack and Geoff enthusiastically. None of them looked injured and all of them regarded Michael with something akin to awe and confusion. He scowled at them.

A small blonde woman darted forward and pulled the two men into a hug. “You’re alright!” She exclaimed, stepping back to examine them. Satisfied, she turned her attention to Michael, a bright smile appearing on her lips as she launched herself at him.

“Welcome,” she muttered, ignoring his noise of discomfort as she hugged him tightly. “We’ve been waiting for you for so so long.”

“Kara,” Jack’s voice, accompanied by a heavy weight on Michael’s shoulder, managed to dislodge the excitable blonde. “We don’t want to scare him away now, do we?”

Michael scoffed. “I don’t get scared,” he muttered under his breath, ignoring the way Jack’s chuckle rumbled deep within his chest and the smirk that Kara gave him in return.

“A little help here…” A tall, dark haired young man in the corner called as he tried to turn over a large, heavy round table. Kara rushed off to help him as Jack gently steered Michael towards the door behind the counter.

“Come on, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping,” he said as he pulled a large keychain full of keys from the pocket of his red shorts and, without difficulty, selected the right key to unlock the door. As he did so, Michael looked around the room and noticed that most of its occupants had gravitated around Geoff and were all listening intently to whatever he was saying. “Michael?”

He whipped around to stare at Jack, ducking in through the open door without a word and racing up the stairs two at a time to enter into a room that undoubtedly a living room. The apartment itself seemed to be a moderate size, decorated in warm homely colours that Michael could immediately tell reflected Jack’s personality, with a door leading away from the living room directly and a hallway leading away from it. He stood awkwardly for a moment as Jack entered the room and then sat down at the older man’s insistence.

“You can choose which couch you want to sleep on,” Jack told him as he disappeared down the hallway. Michael heard the sound of a door opening and Jack moving around as he continued, his voice carrying. “Though, Geoff likes to sit on the one opposite the television so it might be better if you use the other one.”

“So, really I only have one choice,” Michael mused, getting to his feet to examine a series of photographs that were hung on the wall. Jack, looking much younger and without his beard, was featured in almost all of them, alongside a smaller women, another man and a baby. The three adults were all smiling broadly. Some of the photos featured the woman and the baby, sometimes just by themselves, and one photo depicted Jack, looking similar to how he looked now, with Geoff.

He could not help but notice the stark contrast from the grinning young man in the older images in comparison to the grim-faced man who stood alongside Geoff in the grainy-coloured image.

Jack quickly returned but made enough noise for Michael to return to the sofa before the other man could see him snooping, the bearded man’s arms were laden in blankets and he clutched a pillow close to his chest.

“It’s not much but it will see you through the night,” he announced cheerfully, depositing his bundle onto the sofa. “You can help yourself to anything in the fridge and the bathroom is the door at the end of the hallway.”

“Thanks Jack,” Michael replied, pulling the pillow over to the arm of the sofa. He kicked off his shoes.

“No problem at all Michael, we get a lot of people here and I always try my best to make sure that they have everything they need.”

He did not have to say anything, but Michael could hear the unspoken statement in his voice; that Jack had been in a similar place as him before and had not received the help he needed in such a difficult situation.

“I’m going to help Geoff clear up downstairs, you should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“I’m looking forward to it already,” Michael grinned as he removed his jacket, flinging it over the back of Geoff’s sofa as Jack shut the door behind him with a soft ‘click’. He pulled the blankets over him as he lay down on the surprisingly comfortable surface.

Later, he would look back on the events of the day in an almost dreamlike haze and would wonder how on Earth he managed to fall asleep so quickly through the thoughts and feelings that twirled through his mind in waves.


	2. Viris Rex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael meets the men that King Ryan has sent to guide him on his journey and they are...rather different from what he expected.
> 
> Oh, and they finally get to a new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it may have taken me 10k to get them to a new world but… what’s a bit of world building between friends ey?

Morning came and Michael found himself being shaken awake at an unknown time by a sleepy-looking Geoff. The remnants of his dreams, twisted and incomprehensible to his waking mind, fizzled and faded away as his awareness of his surroundings grew, and the auburn haired teen struggled to prop himself up on the sofa.

Geoff, looking far less intimidating than the soldier he had been the day before, wore a pair of grey sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips and a baggy, short-sleeved shirt that showed off the bright, colourful tattoos coiling around the full expanse of skin on his arms. His moustache was a mess, and if Michael was more awake he would have laughed outright at the sight of it.

“Get up kid,” he muttered gruffly, pulling his hand back away from Michael’s shoulder and folding his arms. Michael fought back a yawn and struggled to untangle his legs from the blankets he had fallen asleep under, freeing him arms to feel the cool morning air.

“What time is it?” He asked, losing the fight against the yawn. He pulled a blanket from where it lay partway on the floor to around his shoulders, shielding the smatterings of goosebumps that littered his arms from the air, and slowly got to his feet.

Geoff shrugged unhappily. “Too fucking early, that’s what time it is,” he grumbled as he shuffled on bare feet towards the hazy kitchen light that spilled into the living room. Michael followed him, dragging himself forwards with bleary eyes, spurred on by the delicious scent that wafted out through the door.

He entered the kitchen to the sounds of plates clanging together and Jack’s cheerful humming, the ginger-haired man was standing around a stove where bacon and eggs sizzled away and happily greeted them both despite the grumpy and antisocial aura that surrounded Geoff. The older man immediately headed towards the table where a steaming mug of coffee waited for him and he slumped down in a seat without a word.

“Good morning Michael,” Jack greeted him cheerfully with a warm smile; fully dressed in his Station Master uniform and looking far more alive and aware than Geoff. Michael could not help but wonder how long he had been awake. “Breakfast will be ready soon, and if you want some coffee I’m sure Geoff wouldn’t mind sharing.”

The way Geoff glowered at him made Michael sure that he  _would_ , indeed, mind sharing.

“Er, do you have any juice?”

Jack pulled open the fridge with one hand as the other expertly wielded a spatula and a moment later a bottle of juice and a glass were placed on the table. Geoff gave a long, exaggerated sigh and slowly sipped his coffee.

“Thanks,” Michael said to him, fighting the grin that tugged at his lips as Geoff rested his head on the table. Jack placed two plates full to the brim with food before the pair and cheerfully bustled around the room cleaning dishes, humming to himself. “This looks great Jack, thanks.”

“No problem at all Michael, I’ve always said that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And you’re going to need your strength.”

Michael scowled, taking a bite of bacon and resisting the urge to moan at the delicious taste. Across from him, Geoff helped himself to his breakfast with more energy than he had shown all morning and waved a piece of bacon around like a baton.

“With a breakfast this good he’ll want to go back to sleep,” he bit half of the bacon and washed it down with a long swig of coffee. Jack, apparently used to Geoff’s sloppy eating habits, made no comment as he continued to wash up pots and pans, wearing a pair of bright yellow gloves. “I know that’s what I’ll want to do.”

“I won’t,” Michael seethed with narrowed eyes. “You don’t know  _anything_  about me.”

Geoff shrugged and continued to eat. Jack turned his head to look towards the two, his hands deep in soapy water. “Come on guys, we’re all on the same side here,” he sighed, draining the water from the sink and pulling his gloves off. He placed them over the tap and, after a moment, leant against the countertop. “We don’t want to be fighting this early in the morning.”

“What time is it anyway?” Michael asked, finishing up his eggs. He stretched his arms to the ceiling and was rewarded with a satisfying click in his shoulders. Geoff winced and shot him a disgusted look.

“Seven thirty,” Jack informed him, straightening up. Geoff groaned unhappily and Michael bit back the moan that almost escaped his lips; he knew he was much more suited to mornings than what he had seen from Geoff, but the earliness of the hour irked him. Jack did not seem to notice. “The King’s men will meet you on Platform 3 at around 9. I have to get back to work but Geoff will take you down, won’t you Geoff?”

“Sure,” Geoff offered, lurking behind his mug of coffee. “Why not?”

Michael chuckled softly and shifted in the flimsy plastic of the chair he was sat in. Geoff paused with his lips against the rim of the mug, noticing a change in his demeanour, and raised an eyebrow. “Did...anybody else arrive last night, d’you know?”

Geoff set his mug lightly onto the table and looked towards Jack. With both pairs of eyes on him Jack visibly deflated, the cheerful expression on his face fading away. He sighed heavily and shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry Michael, no one other than you.”

“My friends could still be okay, right? There has to be other places like this.”

“There  _are_ …but…” Jack trailed off with a shrug. “I’ll contact my associates and see if they’ve found anyone, and I’ll get word to you with any news.”

Michael smiled gratefully, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Thanks man.”

“No problem at all.”

Jack soon left the apartment to return to work - wishing Michael the best of luck on his travels before he left and extending an open invitation for the teen to visit them whenever he wished. Geoff pushed a pile of towels into Michael’s arms before shuffling back into his room, lazily waving to the door at the end of the hallway as he did so.

Michael’s shower was quick, his decision to jump under the warm spray only to get rid of the grime that the previous day’s fight had accumulated helping to speed him up, and he was soon stood in the living room pulling his jacket on, the digital clock on the mantelpiece flashing ‘08:23’ at him in bright green letters.

He dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket as Geoff exited the room next to the bathroom, fully dressed in his armour and with his moustache neatly combed. He strode over to Michael, nodding in satisfaction, and opened the front door.

“Come on, we don’t want to keep  _His Majesty’s_  men waiting. They’ll probably report back telling him how fucking useless we are.”

“You don’t think very highly of the King, do you?” Michael asked, catching the mocking tone that was highly obvious in Geoff’s voice. At Geoff’s beckoning wave he stepped out of the apartment and onto the stairs, watching the older man lock the door behind him. Geoff shrugged dismissively.

“Not really,” he replied, carefully pushing past Michael to walk down the stairs. He paused with his hand on the handle of the downstairs door, and he tilted his head in Michael’s direction. “There’s something you’ll learn about these worlds Michael. Kings and Queens come and go, and you pledge your allegiance to just one. Ryan’s not my King so I’ll treat him however the hell I like.”

He opened the door without waiting for a response and strolled into the café. Despite the early hour Michael was surprised to see a number of people sat around tables, all of whom were talking to each other easily and as fluidly as if they had been sat there for a while, and the blonde woman from the night before - Kara, Michael thought her name was - waved to them as they entered from her place at the cash register. However, Geoff did not stop to talk to anyone and soon the two were exiting the café onto the main concourse.

In contrast to the quiet and emptiness of the station at night, the station during the day seemed to be a bustling hub of conversation and activity. People walked around everywhere pulling suitcases behind them, or grasping briefcases tightly in their hands. In other places, small children were carried on the hips of their mothers, staring around with bright, curious eyes at the ever-changing sights around them as, high above them, a man’s voice announced numbers and names clearly over a tannoy system that reverberated his calming tone to all corners of the building.

Michael thought the voice sounded like Jack’s.

Geoff’s pace was almost difficult to keep up with. The man projected an aura of pure confidence and, in some ways, danger as he breezed through the crowds of people and Michael had a moment to notice the group standing below the electronic sign, apparently able to make more sense of the numbers than Michael ever could, before he was forced to concentrate on where he was going. He hoped beyond hope that he could see someone familiar, and he struggled to hide the feeling of disappointment that rushed through him at seeing no one he recognised.

The entrance to Platform 3 was by no means spectacular; merely a set of rich mahogany doors inlaid with glass windows beneath a large sign cheerfully emblazoned with the number ‘3’. Geoff pulled open one of the doors and allowed Michael to enter into the corridor before him, leaving the door to close with a dull ‘thud’ as he entered behind him. Compared to the concourse, the corridor itself was silent and cold - a draft from the platform presumably wafting its way upstairs - with no windows and a small handful of lanterns lighting the way and reflecting off the brick walls. The ground beneath their feet was hard like cement, and their footsteps echoed painfully around them as they walked.

“Do you know who we’re meeting?” Michael asked, falling into step with Geoff; relieved that the older man had slowed down. Geoff raised an eyebrow with a wry grin and looked to Michael from the corner of his eye.

“Maybe,” he replied. “Ryan has a lot of people working with him and I know some of them. Some are old and stuffy, the kind you’d expect to be working for a King. The others… he could be sending anyone really. Depends on who he can find on such short notice.”

“So I could be stuck with a stuffy old guy?” Michael asked with a groan. “Can’t you come with me?”

“No can do kid, I’m part of the defensive force here. Besides, you might be stuck with someone you don’t like, but Ryan wouldn’t have sent them if he thought they weren’t up for the job.”

The end of the corridor led to a single staircase and the two descended down to the platform together, Michael hoping that whoever was waiting for them below was ready for them.

As soon as the length of the platform came into view it was clear that it was not empty. Two men, deep in conversation with each other, were standing at the end of the platform, bathed in the hazy light of the early morning and waiting beside a large, vibrantly red train carriage. They both looked up as Geoff and Michael stepped down onto the platform and Michael could feel a bolt of nervousness run through him.

Neither male looked in any way intimidating. In fact, Michael was immediately struck by how  _young_  they both looked and, if he had to guess, would say that they were both around his age but no older.

Straight backed and proper, wearing a fine black suit with subtle white embroidery around the seams and a beautifully delicate rose brooch pinned to his top button, a shield strapped to his back, the youngest man - boy, really - stepped forward to greet them, holding out a gloved hand in welcome. His eyes, a deep chocolate brown hidden behind glasses, were serious and the smile on his face was professionally polite.

“Hello Mr. Ramsey,” he shook Geoff’s hand with a nod of recognition before he looked towards Michael. “And you must be the Keybearer?”

Michael opened his mouth to respond, grasping the boy’s hand to shake, but was interrupted by a loud and enthusiastic shout.

“Geoffrey!”

The other boy, tall and far ganglier than the one dressed in black, rushed over to them with a large grin on his face. Immediately Geoff laughed, an infectious sound with a hint of a squeak to it, and pulled the boy into a headlock.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Geoff cried in amusement, messing with the boy’s hair as he squawked indignantly. The bespeckled youth dropped Michael’s hand with a long-suffering sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly in acceptance, and folded his arms.

“C’mon guys, this isn’t the time to act like children,” he admonished sharply, and Geoff let the boy go with a chuckle. “Gavin man, we have a job to do here.”

The boy, Gavin, moaned and flattened his messy hair down with an exasperated glare in Geoff’s direction. The older man moved back towards Michael with a triumphant smirk on his face and patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

“You’ll be fine with these guys Michael,” he told him, moving his hands to his hips. “Ryan could have set you up with much worse.”

“Thank you Mr. Ramsey,” the boy in black said with a small, very controlled bow in Geoff’s direction. Geoff waved a hand at him.

“How many times have I told you to call me ‘Geoff’, Ray?”

Ray smiled sheepishly and took a step back so that he was stood beside Gavin. Gavin, dressed a lot less seriously than Ray in a long-sleeved white shirt below a light forest green jacket and dark grey jeans with a staff holstered to his belt, grinned excitedly as he looked between the members of the group.

Michael was reminded of overly excitable puppy, and could not quite believe that Geoff was willing to let him go with him.

“I’ll try that next time,” Ray assured him, looking from Geoff to Michael. “But for now, we should probably brief… Michael, is it?”

“Yeah,” Michael replied with folded arms, studying Ray with narrowed eyes. The suggestion for Geoff to leave was easy to hear and Michael bristled, despite the relaxed expression of the soldier’s face. “I’m guessing King Ryan sent you to help me?”

“He did, I’m sorry that this has happened so quickly. It’s probably a lot to take in,” Ray began apologetically and Michael felt himself ease up slightly. The younger man did not look threatening at all and, coupled with Gavin’s presence, he found it difficult to maintain an icy front. “We’re here to help you in any way that we can, for as long as you need us.”

“We’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” Gavin interjected and Michael’s ears picked up on his strange accent; his jaw moving less as he spoke and his vowels clipped and precise. “Well, by you I mean the Keybearer… We’ll show you how to use the Keyblade for good!”

Geoff’s hand suddenly appeared firmly on his shoulder, and Michael immediately turned his head. “I have somewhere else to be, so I’ll leave you in Ray and Gavin’s more than capable hands.”

At the prospect of losing his support Michael frowned, a motion that did not go unnoticed by the other man. “You’ll be fine Michael, and you know where to find us if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Michael muttered with a grateful nod. Geoff smirked and squeezed his shoulder lightly, looking towards the others on the platform.

“You look after him alright. I don’t want to hear that he’s been lost on some fucking world out there.”

“Don’t fret Geoffrey, we’ll be fine.”

Geoff rolled his eyes at Gavin’s words and, with one last squeeze of Michael’s shoulder, spun on his heel and stalked towards the platform’s stairs.

For a moment nobody spoke. Not from the lack of anything to say, Michael could see a million questions flash across Gavin’s face as he restrained himself and he was somewhat relieved when Ray spoke up.

“My name is Ray Narvaez Jr and I’m a knight in the King’s Guard,” Ray began in a smooth matter-of-fact tone. He raised a hand to reach behind him, tugging on the top of the shield strapped to his back to draw Michael’s attention to it. “My speciality is defence so it will be my job to defend you at all costs.”

Gavin seemed to take this as his cue to speak, his questions seemingly abandoned in light of Ray’s introduction. “And I’m Gavin Free, the youngest magician in King Ryan’s court. At your service!”

Michael’s gaze was drawn to the staff hanging from Gavin’s belt; a thin, charcoal black handle with an almost-lime green star on the end. Disappointingly, it did not look particularly powerful.

“Michael Jones, a bit confused about this entire situation and just rolling with it.”

“It’ll get easier,” Ray told him as he turned and moved towards the train. As if detecting his approach the door nearest to him popped open in a grand sweeping motion. “We’ve had a number of reports of Heartless activity in some of the worlds within our realms, His Majesty has asked us to come with you to eradicate them and seal away the Keyhole, thereby restoring order and peace to that world.”

“That’s what  _you’re_  needed for,” Gavin supplied, motioning for Michael to get onto the train. Michael knew that he would end up on the train one way or another, and it was this thought that stopped him from protesting outright. “Without the Keyblade we can’t seal the Keyhole, so the Heartless keep coming back to cause trouble.”

Michael stepped up off the platform and into the equally vibrant red of the train’s interior. It was very simply decorated; metal-framed chairs with black leather covers faced into the middle of the carriage and soft, white lights shone overhead. At the front of the carriage an electronic screen displayed the word ‘STEELPORT’ and Michael guessed that was their intended destination.

As soon as Gavin had followed him into the train the door closed behind them and, with a soft whirring noise and a gentle thrum, the train began to move.

Neither Gavin nor Ray looked perturbed by it so Michael carefully sat himself down on one of the seats as Ray flipped through a notebook in his hands.

“So, Steelport?” Michael asked with interest. Ray’s head shot up from the notebook he was reading and his eyes flickered between the electronic sign and Michael’s face. “I may not know much about this Keyblade shit but I  _can_  read.”

“How much do you know about other worlds?” Ray asked with interest, obviously gauging how much information Michael would need. Beside him, Gavin flopped down onto a seat and yawned.

“Until yesterday I didn’t know there  _were_  other worlds,” he replied with a frown. “I mean, I’d always thought there could be more out there but I didn’t know anything for sure.”

Ray nodded slowly before looking back down at his notebook and running a hand across the stubble on his chin. “Steelport probably isn’t the best place to take you then,” he shrugged. “Yolo.”

“Yo-”

“We’ll be fine though,” Gavin interrupted, stretching his arms above him. He laced his fingers together. “The gangs don’t usually attack you unless you attack them first.”

“Excuse me,  _gangs_?” Michael spluttered in disbelief, staring at the two men in front of him. Gavin laughed awkwardly and looked to Ray for help, causing the shorter man to groan. “We’re going to be dealing with fucking  _gangs_?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Ray assured him. “And we’re not allowed to interfere with how world’s work so there’s nothing we can do. We’re there to get rid of the Heartless and seal the Keyhole, not to fuck up with the order of things.”

“You’re not worried at all? How can you not be worried about fucking dangerous gangs?!”

“You get used to it.”

“How  _comforting_.”

Ray flipped through his notebook and continued as if Michael had never spoken. “There have been reports of a higher concentration of Heartless appearing in Steelport, mostly in the Downtown and Stanfield areas. They’re actually causing more issues than the gangs.”

“The Deckers, Luchadores, Morningstar and the 3rd Street Saints. Four gangs fighting for territory in a city that has grown used to the near-constant spats between groups,” Gavin chimed in, reading Ray’s notebook over his shoulder. “The problem here is that each gang thinks the Heartless have been sent by another gang to try and bugger them up so they’re too busy fighting each other to really do anything about it.”

“That’s where you come in,” Ray looked up with a nod, unfolding a page in his notebook to show an expanse of precise-looking squiggles that took Michael a moment to realise were a map. It meant nothing to him but Ray pointed to some coloured dots with a precise finger. “If you can eradicate the main problem points we should be able to find the Keyhole. I’ve marked a number of possible locations for it, based on the history of the world and current events.”

“We’ll be with you of course,” Gavin added, his grin almost cheesy. Michael had to bite down his angsty retort. “There’s not much that could go wrong.”

“You two are doing a fucking great job of making me feel safe.”

Ray fixed him with an almost frosty expression, a complete contrast to how polite and friendly he had been; his face almost neutral as his narrowed eyes stared at him over the top of his glasses frames. Gavin’s smile slowly slipped into a frown.

“It’s difficult to make you believe it without seeing what we can do. But really, you’ll be fine with us!” Gavin said earnestly. “We promised Geoff that we’d keep you in one piece, and I keep my promises.”

Michael did not reply and instead got to his feet. He moved purposely towards the small set of seats at the end of the carriage and sat sideways on them, focusing his gaze towards the scenery outside; the reflection of his travelling companions barely visible in the window’s glass.

He was slightly disappointed in what lay beyond the train carriage. A landscape that could have been constructed of blue skies and emerald trees that went on for as far as the eye could see was instead completely barren; the sky indistinguishable from the ground in a strange mixture of colours and lights. Michael resisted the urge to balk at it, the unnaturalness of it all conflicting with everything he knew and had seen throughout his life.

His travelling companions seemed completely unperturbed by it, so he vowed not to let it show how much it bothered him.

Soon the colours and lights pulsed together before slowly coalescing into large, tall forms in dark blends of browns, greys and blacks that stuttered into life before his eyes. He was dimly aware of Gavin and Ray moving around, their low conversation trailing off as the world materialised around them, and he turned himself to look in their direction, noticing that Ray was closer than he had been and guessing that the other man was coming over to attract his attention.

“We’ll be arriving in Steelport soon,” he informed him as the carriage shuddered to a stop. Ray gave him a lopsided grin. “Or now.”

“Right lads, let the Heartless arse-kicking begin!” Gavin announced from his place by the now-open door; thin, musty light spilling into the carriage in its wake and Michael was able to detect a slight scent of staleness to the air. It did nothing to comfort him, and with great reluctance he stood and followed Ray out into the streets of Steelport.

All around them were buildings that stretched high to the sky, dirty stone bricks stacked together so tall that the grey clouded sky above was barely visible amidst the seemingly uniform designs. The height of the buildings did nothing to help the atmosphere. In fact, Michael was left with the distinct impression that the world was trying to cage him in, forcing him to stay within its drab streets that smelled of stale air and sweat.

He felt strong hands grip his jacket and before he could react Ray had pulled him clear across the street onto the pavement, away from the cacophony of car horns that were angrily blaring at them from the busy street. Their bold red carriage had come to a halt in the middle of the street - an intersection actually - but, despite being surrounded by vehicles and people, it seemed to go completely unnoticed.

Ray released his hold on Michael with a nod, turning to Gavin slightly as he spoke. “We good here?”

Gavin pulled his staff from its holster and raised it before him, his right arm completely straight. The star on the tip of the staff pulsed white before dimming and, before Michael’s eyes, the train carriage disappeared.

No ordinary person seemed to notice its disappearance and Gavin hummed as he turned to Ray. “Yep. We just need to remember where we parked.”

Ray squinted at the road signs in the distance, readjusting his glasses as he did so, and Michael dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans; carefully looking around at his surroundings and trying to pick out landmarks. He wanted to be able to find his way back to their starting point if they should get separated but nothing particularly stood out.

“What do we do now?” He asked, scuffing the heel of his shoe against the concrete beneath it. “Stand around and wait for something to happen?”

Ray shrugged. “Pretty much,” he replied, pulling his notebook from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He flipped it open a couple of pages and looked back at the street sign. “We’re in an area that has reported a number of Heartless attacks,” he continued. “So we should walk around and see if we can get rid of any hordes whilst we search for the Keyhole.”

“Guys?”

At Gavin’s tone, marginally less excited than Michael had heard from him so far, the two men looked at him. Wordlessly, he pointed across the street where, barely visible behind the cars, half a dozen Heartless roamed; they were the same bug-like, yellow-eyed creatures that Michael had fought the day before - skittering awkwardly across the ground as the people on the streets walked around obliviously.

Michael flexed his right hand and the Keyblade materialised in a burst of light. Beside him, Gavin sucked in a quick breath of surprise and Ray’s hand froze from where it had gripped the side of his shield.

“Don’t just stand there and stare,” Michael snapped, dodging a car as he leapt towards the Heartless. “Come on!”

“Wait!” Gavin cried, lifting his staff into the air. “I can deal with these buggers myself.  _Thundaga!_ ”

Threads of electricity raced around the star at the end of Gavin’s staff before shooting into the sky. Immediately, bolts of lightning appeared above the Heartless across the street and, quicker than Michael could even blink, they shot down; disintegrating the creatures into tiny flecks of shadows.

Rapidly left with the impression that he had underestimated Gavin, Michael adjusted his grip on the Keyblade and took a step back onto the pavement. Ray sighed and let his hand fall to his side.

“You might want to be a little less obvious in the future Gav, you’ve managed to confuse the locals.”

The group of people across the street were now looking to the sky in confusion. The expressions on their faces were almost comical, and Michael struggled to hide a smile.

The struggle was made easier when something metallic clicked behind him and the hard, cold edge of something was pressed to the back of his head. Any hint of a smile vanished.

“What do we have here then?” A female taunted and Ray’s eyes narrowed. Gavin moved to hold up his staff again but was halted by the woman who moved the item she had pressed against Michael’s hair to walk out beside him.

She was not particularly tall, her height mainly bolstered by the impossibly high heels she wore, and her slim frame was accentuated by a pair of tight, royal purple hotpants and a rather low-cut violet crop top. Michael focused on her face, dark eyes and hair pulled into a high ponytail, and on the gun she waved in her hands.

“A couple of strange looking kids and a weird magic wand?” She drawled, placing a hand with perfectly manicured fingers onto her hip. She raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re going to tell me how you managed to do something that we’ve been struggling to do for weeks.”

“Or what?” Michael snarled, the Keyblade almost humming beneath his fingertips.

The woman smirked. “Or things will get… rather unfortunate for you,” she lifted her head and Michael could see the small number of armed men and women behind her. “If you catch my drift.”


	3. Portus de Ferro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon arriving in Steelport, Michael is quickly introduced to the notorious 3rd Street Saints and their temporary leader Shaundi. His hope to quickly seal a Keyhole and get out of there are quickly dashed when he and his travelling companions are given a task to prove themselves.
> 
> Apparently Shaundi does not like being kept waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO NEARLY A YEAR LATER we finally have chapter 3! There are a number of reasons why this chapter is so horrendously late; mainly because I wanted to actual play around in Saints Row 3 to get geography and descriptions correct...but then I moved to France at the end of September and my PS3 stayed in England. 
> 
> And then I’ve had two jobs, writer’s block (which I’m still trying to unravel) and other things. But I’m going to try and endeavourer to keep this regularly updated. It’s been fully planned since the beginning, so it’s just a case of actually getting on with it!

“We’re not here to cause any trouble,” Ray began, holding his hands up in the standard gesture of peace. It did nothing to ease the tension that had fallen among them, but if it made Ray feel better then Michael was not going to question it. “Just to help.”

“Yeah? By doing whatever the hell it was that you just did?” The woman replied, her expression blank. “I’m still waiting for an explanation. And I don’t like waiting.”

Michael had no idea where to start and, almost on instinct, looked towards his companions for guidance. Ray’s stark warning about interfering in a world’s affairs was fresh in his mind; revealing what their purpose in Steelport was would certainly go over that predetermined line and he was not keen to discover the consequences of doing so.

Gavin and Ray seemed to be silently debating something, if the serious looks on their faces were anything to go by, but Gavin quickly conceded to something unsaid and allowed Ray to step forward.

“We’ve been specially trained to deal with this… infestation that you’ve been having. If you just let us do our jobs we’ll be on our way in no time.”

His words seemed to ignite a flurry of something within the people standing behind the woman.

“Oi, are they with STAG?”

“-hey dun look li-”

“-ose fuckers tryin’ to trick us?”

“Shut the fuck up,” the woman snapped, and instantly the group fell silent. She waved a hand dismissively in the travellers’ direction. “Open your eyes, do they fucking look like they’re with STAG?”

“Who’s STAG?” Gavin blurted out, his words igniting a storm of indignation in the assembled group. The woman rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

“See,” she drawled, half turning to her lackeys. “Clueless.”

Michael bristled, the Keyblade disappearing from his grip in a whirling surge of light, allowing him to clench his fist in anger. “Look lady, we didn’t have to come here. Just shut up, accept our help and stay out of our business.”

The woman glowered at him, her eyes hard and suspicious. Behind her someone laughed.

“Shaundi, lighten up,” a tall, dark skinned man said as he stepped away from the group. His demeanour seemed less colder than Shaundi’s, his gaze serious yet friendly as he surveyed the group, and he wore a light grey suit that sat across strong, broad shoulders with a dark purple shirt visible beneath. Purple seemed to be quite a popular colour with the people around them, and it did not take a genius to realise that it was this gang’s colour.

“We need t’move,” the man continued, placing a large hand onto Shaundi’s shoulder. “We gonna get attacked standin’ around out here. Bring ‘em with us.”

Shaundi frowned and shrugged the man’s hand from her shoulder, her face otherwise blank. “And why the fuck should we do that?”

“They said they are specially trained to deal with those creepy bastards, and everything we throw at ‘em don’t do nothin’.”

“You actually think these jumped up kids could help us? You’re fucking deluded Pierce.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Shaundi glared at him but did not reply, choosing to stare in silence before nodding sharply and spinning on her heel. She stomped towards the building beside them without further conversation, threw open the glassed doors and disappeared inside.

“You might wanna move, she don’t like to be kept waitin’,” Pierce advised, prompting the three to follow Shaundi into the building and down a short hallway to the waiting elevator. Shaundi impatiently pushed one of the buttons and ignored them, choosing instead to examine her nails as the cheery elevator music assaulted their eardrums.

Michael’s first impression of the gang’s crib was that it was incredibly lavish. They exited the elevator into a small hallway with a plush purple carpet on the floor and surrounded by fragile-looking glass windows, one overlooking a large statue of a man and the ocean surrounding him and the other window showing a vast collection of plants.

Shaundi did not pause in the entranceway like her three guests, instead storming away from them further into the crib; her heels leaving the carpet to meet dark tiled floor, where she took a sharp right and disappeared towards what looked like a minibar and a small group of gang members without a word.

“Welcome to the HQ of the 3rd Street Saints,” Pierce announced proudly, moving around Ray to stand before them. “C’mon.”

He beckoned the three to follow him with a wave of his hand, moving out towards a balcony overlooking a room below. He veered to the left, passing what looked like an ornately decorated axe in a display case, and led them down a staircase towards a group of leather sofas situated in the middle of the room.

“Make y’selves at home.”

The entire penthouse was extravagantly decorated in various shades of purple and black, with what looked like incredibly expensive furniture filling the space (Gavin’s attention seemed fixated on the large statue of a Roman centurion that dominated the room) and a huge pool with helipad being clearly visible through the expanse of glass that stood in place of solid wall. All in all, it was far bigger than Michael’s own house, and it made him slightly uncomfortable. That level of comfort was not helped by the groups of purple-clad people milling around the place, firearms clearly visible as they moved.

However, he followed Ray’s lead and took a seat on the sofa beside him; the tough leather creaking beneath him as he sat. He fidgeted.

“What are we waiting for?”

Pierce chuckled at Michael, a deep good-natured rumble that somehow managed to not anger him, and sat down onto the sofa opposite them. “We gotta wait for Shaundi.”

“We don’t have to wait for her, she clearly hates us,” Michael responded. Gavin, who had managed to tear himself away from the statue, fell into the space next to him with a small bounce and spoke.

“Yeah, you seem…” Michael did not miss the way Gavin’s eyes stared at the the gun in Pierce’s holster and how nervous the other seemed in his surroundings. Pierce raised an eyebrow. “...Nicer.”

“It could possibly save us some time if you were to tell us everything that you could,” Ray added, resting his shield on the empty stretch of sofa to his right. “It would get us out of here quicker.”

For a moment Pierce was silent before he shrugged and leant forward. “Our leader disappeared.”

Ray narrowed his eyes in thought. “And that’s unusual?”

“Hell yeah that’s unusual! ‘specially since they went out to fight those creatures and vanished into thin air. ‘Poof’, gone. Nothin’.”

“What do you mean ‘ _nothing_ ’?” Ray asked seriously. Pierce shrugged again and to his left Michael could almost feel the cogs in Gavin’s brain turning.

“That’s what our guys said. Like I told ya, One minute they were there, the next. Poof. Gone.”

“And you’re going to help us find them.”

The frustrated fury that had been plain to see across Shaundi’s face upon their arrival had vanished; replaced by an expression of steely determination and purpose. She brushed passed the men standing at the bottom of the stairs without looking at them and strode towards the sofa where Pierce was sat, her heels clipping across the tiled floor loudly with each step.

Michael seethed.

“You wave guns in our faces, drag us here and then expect us to help you? No fucking way,” he exclaimed in outrage, making a move to stand that was halted by Ray’s strong grip on his jacket sleeve. Shaundi bared her teeth in anger.

Beside him, Ray shot him an odd look that he could not interpret and let go of his sleeve before holding out his hand to cut across Shaundi’s angry retort.

“Listen here you little pu-”

“We’d be _happy_ to help you,” Ray started, ignoring the daggers Michael glared at him with an air of superiority that made something inside Michael twist in annoyance. “We all share common goals. Finding people, getting the Heartless out of the way,” he dropped his voice and stared hard at Michael; dark chestnut orbs commanding no nonsense. “ _Sealing the Keyhole_.”

Ah. That was the reason behind the odd look. Michael exhaled slowly to release his pent up anger and, certain that he was not going to be punched for speaking, Gavin cleared his throat.

“We could use your help,” he added, shooting Michael a weary look. “We don’t really know our way around here, and I’m sure this would go a lot faster if we all worked together.”

Gavin’s ability to turn a serious situation into something that sounded like something his elementary school teacher would say astounded him, and Michael and Shaundi huffed in unison.

“Yeah yeah, we’ll all hold hands and be the best of friends sure,” Shaundi intoned sarcastically. Gavin shrunk back. “You wanted to prove yourselves? Well, I’ve just heard of the perfect opportunity.”

“Oh really?” Michael shot back as Pierce stood. Shaundi nodded shortly and waved her hand sharply, a man in a purple tracksuit appeared almost instantly to lay out a map on the coffee table in front of the sofas. “What’s this?”

“Aw, did they not teach you what a map was in grade school?”

“Opportunity?” Pierce injected, cutting off the biting retort that was on the tip of Michael’s tongue. Ray stepped forward to examine the map closely, pulling out his notebook and unfolding the map within it to compare.  

“Yeah,” Shaundi continued, placing a delicately manicured hand onto her hip. “They said they were trained to deal with this shit, if they want to work with us then they’re going to have to prove it.”

Michael stood to his full height (which he knew, compared to most people in the room, was not very impressive but it was the thought that counted) and retorted. “Bring it on.”

The smirk Shaundi showed him in response was the closest thing to a nice expression he had seen from her, and she cocked her head in amusement. “Some of those weird creatures have been spotted in Camano Place,” she pointed to the island at the top right of the map. “We’re gonna go over there and _you’re_ gonna get rid of them for us.”

“Sure, we’re on it.”

Beside him both Gavin and Ray nodded in agreement.

As soon as the Saints had gathered their weaponry Michael, Gavin and Ray were led into the elevator again and out into an underground parking lot where Pierce hustled them into the back of a rather posh looking car. Shaundi did not join them.

Neither did Pierce initially, the other man choosing to linger outside of the driverless vehicle with a small group of gang members. Michael, squashed between Ray and Gavin in the back of the car, tapped his foot impatiently.

“Is something bothering you?” Ray ventured quietly, staring out of his window at the group standing outside his window.

“I didn’t think it would take this long,” he grumbled, trying to dislodge the side of Ray’s shield from his rib cage. “I thought we’d appear on a world, kill some Heartless and seal a Keyhole. Just like that. I don’t have time to wander around proving myself to people.”

Gavin looked intrigued. “You volunteered for this. What else have you got to do?” He asked, unnecessarily shifting in his seat; being behind the passenger seat gave him more legroom than Ray and Michael combined and, to Michael’s annoyance, he looked a lot more relaxed than them both.

“Oh I don’t know, _finding my friends maybe?_ ” He growled, resisting the urge to hit something. Preferably Gavin at his ignorance. The magician blinked, his jaw slowly dropping open.

“Oh.”

Pierce opened the driver’s door and slunk into the seat with ease, closing his door with a bang. He looked back at them in the rear-view mirror. “We all ready? Good.”

Cars had never really been popular on his homeworld, his town was so small they were really not needed, so when the car thundered to life no amount of preparation could stop him from jumping at the sudden rumble beneath him. Pierce coaxed the car out of the parking lot and into the light of the street above as Ray spoke.

The dark-haired young man did not turn his head, but Michael could tell that his full attention was on his comrades.

“What makes you so sure they’re out there?” He asked quietly, the lights from outside reflecting on his glasses. “Your friends, I mean.”

At first, Michael did not know how to respond. From his conversations with Jack he knew that his world had been destroyed; ripped from existence by the shadows that had seeped and poisoned the very land he had grown up on. He alone had been thrust into the Light to safety, the Keyblade humming beneath his fingers.

He knew there was a very high possibility that his friends were not out there at all and it was that thought that, despite Gavin and Ray’s presences beside him, made him feel very alone.

“They’ve got to be out there somewhere,” he muttered, a vision of Lindsay and Caleb filling his mind. Lindsay, her smile bright and sweet, reaching to take his hands in hers and Caleb, sky blue eyes twinkling in merriment, clapping his hand onto his shoulder in a familiar gesture of friendship. He could almost feel Lindsay’s soft skin against his own and Caleb’s squeeze of reassurance.

And then Gavin shifted, accidentally nudging Michael’s foot as he moved, and the vision was gone.

“I’ll bet they are,” Gavin agreed cheerfully with a grin. “We’ll keep an eye out for them if you want, what do they look like?”

Something twisted painfully within him and Michael felt words escape him. He was saved from answering by the car pulling up to the side of the road and Pierce turning the key in the ignition to stop it, the rumbling disappearing at once.

“Okay kids,” Pierce opened his door and looked at them through the mirror again. From the crinkling around his eyes Michael could tell he was smiling. “Time to show us what you’re made of.”

Michael scooted over to the seat that Ray had just vacated and pulled himself from the car, slightly glad to have his feet firmly on solid ground even if the journey that had brought them there was relatively short. He did not immediately see what the whole fuss was about, but followed Gavin’s line of sight when the other boy gasped, his jaw dropping at the scene before them.

The street was almost blanketed completely by the swarming, shadowy bodies of the Heartless that had gathered there, their unearthly yellow eyes occasionally showing from the mass before they disappeared. They seemed almost docile, if that was the right word to describe it; calmly skittering across the tarmac together with no particular aim in sight.

“ _Some?”_ Michael asked incredulously, the word slipping from his lips before he could stop it. Echoing Shaundi’s word to describe the situation did nothing to calm him. “This doesn’t look like _some_ to me.”

“We’re not too sure how the Heartless communicate,” Ray told him, checking the straps that connected his forearm with the large face of his shield with a meticulous and professional eye. “But it’s likely that the first ones to arrive here thought it was a good place and passed the message on.”

Pierce cleared his throat. “We didn’t bring ya here t’stand around doin’ nothin’.”

Gavin raised his staff, the tip of the star emitting a slow pulse of green light, and grinned brightly at him. “After you, oh great Keybearer!”

Ignoring the slight mocking tone in Gavin’s voice (and vowing to yell at him for it later) Michael purposely extended his right hand. The Keyblade immediately responded, appearing securely in his grip in a burst of light, and Michael took in the feel of it for a split second before he sprung forward to attack.

As soon as his weapon had appeared the Heartless immediately lost their aimless wandering and focused on him, the Keyblade acting as a beacon that almost shattered their previous calm and replaced it with frantic rage.

If he had a moment to think then he probably would have found it frightening how they all lunged at him, their claws outstretched and their emotionless yellow eyes focused on nothing but him. But he ducked down and slashed upwards, his blade disintegrating a group of Heartless in a wisp of shadow and rising hearts, before dodging to the side out of the path of another group with nothing but the adrenaline coursing through his veins to spur him on.

He was dimly aware of Gavin and Ray somewhere behind him, the swarm of shadows around him making it difficult for him to see their exact whereabouts. However, lightning bolts rained down unnaturally from the sky at regular intervals and somebody seemed to be wreaking havoc somewhere to his right so he assumed they were holding their own.

It was only after he had cut through another group of Heartless did he notice that there was a new enemy in their midst. Instead of the small, almost bug-like Heartless he was getting used to -  quick in their movements but not particularly challenging or smart - he could see a new creature among them. Slightly bigger than its brethren, and sporting what looked like a helmet, this new Heartless had viciously long claws by comparison, claws that - taking advantage of his split second of distraction - tore into the fabric of his jacket and into the skin of his arm.

“Michael!” Gavin suddenly appeared by his side with no warning, brandishing his staff; the new Heartless dissolving as it was hit. “Are you okay?!”

Despite the stinging pain in his arm, along with the unsettling crimson colour seeping into his sleeve, he felt fine. Gavin, however, seemed to think the opposite. His eyes were wide and he reached out for Michael’s arm without thinking.

“Hey! Don’t touch it dumbass!” Michael yelped, pulling his injured limb from beneath Gavin’s probing fingers. Gavin blinked at him owlishly, absentmindedly zapping some Heartless that had moved too close to them without even looking. “What are those things?”

“Soldier Heartless,” Gavin replied instantly, smacking at a Soldier with his staff. “They’re kinda a step up from the Shadows. A lot faster, a lot meaner… oh, and they can fly too.”

‘Fly’ was a bit of an overstatement. The Soldier seemed to be fond of hovering a few feet off the ground, and that combined with their considerable ability to jump made it seem like they could fly. One leapt at him and he instinctively raised an arm to block it; gritting his teeth as each violent kick sent shockwaves through his bones.

Michael frowned at the sensation, carefully watching the Soldier as it moved back in preparation of launching another attack, and quickly thrust the Keyblade through it.

“So, when were you going to tell me that there were different types of these fuckers?” He demanded of Gavin. Gavin shrugged, and the sheepish smile on his face did nothing to quell the annoyance that bubbled inside him.

His grip tightened around the handle of the Keyblade.

“There was no need to tell you about it before it came up,” Ray appeared as if summoned, nonchalantly smacking the last solitary Shadow away with an air of unconcerned superiority. “There’s a lot you don’t know and there just hasn’t been enough time to tell you everything.”

“That was pretty damn impressive.”

At least Pierce actually looked impressed as he sauntered over to them as the last remnants of the Heartless dispersed, leaving a small group of purple-clad gang members stood grouped around his car. Although most regarded them with cool, almost icy expressions there was definitely a hint of interest among them that Michael could see.

“Thanks,” Gavin grinned in response, striking what must have been an attempt at a heroic pose and only succeeding in making Michael flush with secondhand embarrassment. “We try.”

“You handled the Keyblade very well,” Ray commented, his dark eyes focused on the blade in Michael’s grasp. Michael raised an eyebrow at the very thin hint of amazement in the other’s voice, and Ray’s eyes flitted up to meet his. “Have you had any weapons training before?” He asked curiously.

With a simple mental command the Keyblade disappeared, and Michael lazily folded his arms with a shrug. “Not really,” his mind flashed back to the sunny days he had spent play-fighting with his friends on the beach, tiny golden specks spraying and falling in all directions as they charged through the sand with wooden weapons held tightly in their hands. He remembered how easily it had been for him to triumph over Trevor and Steffie, how evenly matched he and Lindsay were and just how long it had taken him to beat Caleb.

They had nothing to worry about at the time; they were young and carefree, concerned only by the sand in their underwear and the burgeoning sunburn across the bridge of their noses. He felt slightly sick as he realised just how much had changed in such a short space of time.

Ray was still looking at him, his gaze intense enough to almost see through him into his thoughts, and he shrugged again. “I play a lot of tennis.”

“You were bloody brilliant,” Gavin chimed before Ray could say anything in reply. He threw his arm around Michael’s shoulder - narrowly missing smacking the back of the Keybearer’s head with the top of his staff - and continued. “With you on our team, we can do anything!”

Michael harshly pulled away from Gavin’s hold and turned his attention to Pierce. “So, did we pass?”

Pierce nodded, a slow movement that almost seemed to scream ‘yeah, why not?’, and Michael was glad that he did not need to elaborate. “Hell yeah, it’s good enough for me,” he thumbed over his shoulder to the group of gang members behind him. “An’ for them.”  

Michael figured that was a good thing, the less people to convince of their ‘worthiness’ and the quicker they could get moving the better. Beside him, clearly trying not to look dejected at Michael’s rejection of his friendly gesture, Gavin spoke.

“And Shaundi?” He asked, his fingers absently playing with the tip of his staff. Michael inwardly cringed and braced himself for the inevitable electrocution that never came. Pierce laughed heartily and clamped his large hand onto Gavin’s bony shoulder hard enough to make the younger male’s knees quake.

“She’s not gonna be easy, but y’did do what she asked.”

“Guys, we have company.”

Ray’s attention from the group seemed to have wandered as soon as his conversation with Michael had been interrupted so it was natural that he noticed the approaching newcomers faster than the others. A single car, a clean black colour with blood red doors, coasted rapidly towards them; its headlights blaring even in the light of day.

“Oh hell no,” Pierce groaned, rubbing his chin. He stared at the car with a mixture of disgust and annoyance. “Nu-uh, we ain’t dealin’ with this today.”

“Dealing with what?”

Pierce ignored Ray’s question and gestured for them to follow him as he led them back to his vehicle. The other car screeched to a half and the doors were flung open, three armed people - two men and a woman - stepping out into the street.

If the colour of the 3rd Street Saints was purple - clearly evident in their wardrobe, mechanics and interior design - then this gang was definitely leaning towards the colour red. But where the Saints seemed to have some form of sophistication in their style, the new gang’s style was questionable; the men clad in smart black and red suits and the woman...not clad in very much at all.

Michael was fairly certain that his entire face was as red as the woman’s tight corset and suddenly he found his shoes very interesting. To his left, Gavin openly gaped.

“Get in,” Michael had not noticed Pierce opening the back door of his car and it was only at Ray’s amused smirk and teasing tone that he complied, sliding across the leather to sit behind the passenger’s seat. Gavin was unceremoniously pushed into the seat beside him and Ray eased himself in after. The members of the Saints who had been loitering around had immediately moved to confront the new gang as Pierce slammed the driver’s door and started the engine.

“Usually I wouldn’t run from a fight, but we ain’t got time t’deal with this,” he told them, pulling the car forward and away from the impending gang fight. “Shaundi will wanna know what went down here and like I told ya, she don’t like to be kept waitin’.”

Regardless of whether she liked it or not, Michael was looking forward to rubbing their victory into her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any video game worlds that you’d like to see just drop me a message and I’ll see what I can do :) 
> 
> Let me know what you think as well... I’m feeling very shy and self-conscious about this so I would kinda like to make it something that people would enjoy reading!!


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